


Desperate For A Cure To This Disease

by Squeaky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Completely fake eastern European countries, Happy Birthday Taste_is_Sweet!, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sick Steve Rogers, Sickfic, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:39:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets an infection deep in the Symkarian forest. And as always, when Steve gets sick, Bucky is there.  </p><p>But Steve's fever is very high and he's hallucinating. And maybe Bucky's not actually there at all...</p><hr/>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate For A Cure To This Disease

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for my best friend and best sister [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/works) who asked for Sick!Steve lost in a snowstorm with a very Stucky happy ending. Well I didn't get Steve lost, but I hope it works for you anyway. Happy birthday Tasty! I love you! (And thanks for the beta btw. I know the story's better because of it.)
> 
> The title is from ['You and Me' by You + Me.](https://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNnBcCk7eDA) It's a gorgeous song that really deserves a listen.
> 
> * * *

“You’ve cut your hand.”

Steve Rogers looked down at the knuckles of his right hand, which were indeed cut and bleeding. He smirked mirthlessly. “Guess Hydra’s machines are tougher than we thought.”

“You might wanna clean that up,” Sam Wilson said. “Who knows how long this stuff has been lying around for? It’s probably full of germs.” He shivered and Steve knew it was only partly from the cold. 

“Super solider, remember?” Steve said on a sigh. Even though he used to get sick all the time as a kid, he hadn’t gotten so much as a cold ever since he’d been given the super-soldier serum back in ’43. “I doubt very much that this is the infection that’ll do me in.”

“Okay,” Sam acquiesced. “But you are bleeding a bit. So you know, bandage.” His breath plumed from his mouth. 

Steve’s mouth hardened. “Later.”

They were standing in the ruins of yet another Hydra lab, this one deep in the mountains of yet another small Eastern European country. Steve had kind of hoped that the disaster with Sokovia would be the last time he’d had to wander through this part of the world, but once again Bucky’s trail led right back to the remnants of the Iron Curtain. He and Sam had restarted their quest to find Bucky almost immediately after the New Avengers assembled. Natasha was admirably holding down the fort, and with Tony in semi-retirement, there didn’t seem to be any immediate threat on the horizon to take up his time. 

It meant that he and Sam were free to run around the ass-end of Europe, freezing their balls off. Because God forbid Bucky would head south for the winter. 

“There ain’t nothing here,” Sam sighed. He gestured at the rows of battered and derelict lab equipment that was scattered throughout the room. It was apparent that the lab had been abandoned several years—if not decades—ago and no one had been in it since. Even the Winter Soldier would leave traces in dust that thick. If Bucky had returned to the area, it certainly wasn’t to inspect the leftovers of Hydra’s human experimentation. 

It'd been the shock and horror of seeing yet another cryogenic chamber that had made Steve slam his fist through the machinery. The glass breaking had been extremely satisfying, even if his knuckles ended up as collateral damage.

He looked down at his hand. As he suspected, the bleeding had stopped and the skin was slowly re-forming. It was a little pinker than he was used to, but then again the air that deep underground was frigid. Even super soldiers felt the cold. 

“Time to head out,” Steve said as he attached his shield to the harness that was part of his backpack. Sam was right, there wasn’t anything there of any kind of use in their search. 

“Great!” Sam clapped his hands together. He was wearing gloves and a hat along with his state-of-the-art winter wear lovingly donated by Stark Industries for their trek. It was sleek and formfitting and flexible enough so that Sam could still bring it in a fight. Steve was wearing similar gear, but he’d forgone the hat and gloves since he wasn’t in uniform and his internal temperature burned hotter since the serum. It took a lot more for him to feel really chilled. 

Although it was dank enough in the lab to make him wish he’d actually worn the hat.

They started heading back up the stairs together. Hydra seemed to love old castles and winding staircases, making all their bases feel like set pieces from gothic novels. It was disturbing and yet almost laughable how hard Hydra tried to make themselves seem like evil villains. Which, Steve supposed, they actually were. 

“The way these sons-of-bitches experimented on people…” Sam started and then shuddered. “It ain’t right.”

“You’re telling me,” Steve thinned his lips. Every base was yet another reminder of the horrors that Bucky’d had to endure at the hands of these bastards. Sometimes Steve felt that if he set fire to every single Hydra base himself it’d still never feel like enough.

They continued up the spiral staircase, finally coming to the main floor where they’d entered the building with an impressive show of force considering it’d just been the two of them. Tony’s equipment was very effective in showing life-signs, so when it remained comfortingly dark Steve and Sam felt like it’d be a good risk to break in. Unfortunately the scanner had been too correct. There probably hadn’t been a life-sign in that base for eons. 

“What a waste of time,” Steve muttered as they exited the building. It was late afternoon now, crisp and cold with that particular sense of future snowfall already in the air. Sam must’ve sensed it too because he was peering up at the darkening sky, a look of concern on his face. 

“If we don’t hoof it, we’re going to be stuck in a snowstorm, Cap,” he said worriedly. “Now I know we can cuddle for warmth, but I’d prefer the comforters we left in that nice hotel room.”

“Point taken,” Steve flashed him a brief smile. The base was on the outskirts of the small city they’d been staying in, in an area that the locals never went to. Sneaking out on foot at the crack of dawn made more sense than renting a vehicle, which would’ve alerted everyone in town that the foreigners were up to something. In Steve’s experience nothing traveled faster than gossip, no matter where—or what century—one was in.

They moved out, snow crunching underfoot. Steve’s hand was beginning to hurt, and he flexed it. He must’ve hit the cryogenic chamber harder than he thought; hard enough to crack the bones. He shoved the pain to the back of his brain as a slight annoyance that time would take care of and focussed on getting him and Sam back to civilization before the storm hit.

They walked in silence, both men deep in thought. Occasionally Steve would catch Sam looking at him, considering expression on his face, and Steve knew that Sam was thinking that Steve should just call it quits. It’d been months already, over a year if you counted their searching before Tony’s attempt at world peace almost ended them all. Sam’s philosophy was that Bucky didn’t want to be found, and he’d reappear when he was good and ready. 

Natasha had already warned him not to pull on the thread he’d been tugging until almost the breaking point.

Unless it was _his_ breaking point he was about to reach: that moment when his determination gave way to despair and he finally admitted that his best friend was truly gone. 

Steve grit his teeth. He wasn’t there yet. No matter how many cold forests he’d have to trek through, no matter how much it hurt—

Steve blinked. He _did_ hurt. The pain in his hand had increased to the point where it was unignorable, stabbing up his arm like a blade. He looked down at it, and immediately stopped walking. “Sam.”

“Yeah?” Sam jogged up to him. “What’s the prob—oh shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. His hand was red and swollen, with the epicenter at his cut knuckle. The skin had already been pulled taught by the swelling, bad enough that Steve couldn’t’ve made a fist if he’d tried. There were streaks of redness beginning to creep up his wrist and now that he’d looked at it, it hurt like a bitch. “I think it’s infected.”

“I think you’re right,” Sam said, not taking his eyes off of Steve’s hand. He unshouldered his pack. “I didn’t bring a lot of first aid stuff, but let me see what I’ve got.” He frowned as he looked through the bag. “I have some Tylenol, but I have no idea what dose a super soldier would need.” He thought for a second. “Let’s do four times the normal dose, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve was proud of how normal his voice sounded, how in control. The truth was that he was beginning to panic. He hadn’t had an infection since before the serum, and other than when Bucky had put him in the hospital, he hadn’t even been slowed down by an injury in years. He hadn’t thought it was possible for anything to give him an infection anymore.

“Here,” Sam said and Steve swallowed eight of the pills with the canteen Sam handed him. “I’m gonna let you keep those,” Sam said and tucked the bottle into one of Steve’s coat pockets. He then put Steve’s arm in a sling, hoisting his hand against his collarbone and above his heart. “This might help with the swelling. I’m also going to put on this antibiotic ointment I brought, but I’m not expecting miracles. Anything that can affect you probably won’t be touched by this generic stuff.” 

“Try it anyway,” Steve said tersely. His hand was hurting like hell now, like it'd just been waiting for Steve’s attention before it flared in pain. Even Sam’s gentle ministrations with the cream made it hurt and it took all he had not to flinch away. 

“Sorry,” Sam muttered, clearly recognizing Steve’s efforts. He surveyed his work with a frown, hands on hips. “You don’t look good, buddy.” 

“I’m fine,” Steve replied automatically.

“You’re sick,” Sam shot back. “I don’t care how super-soldiered up you are. You’re sick and in pain. We gotta find a place to stop.”

“No can do,” Steve replied. “We’re in the middle of the forest and there’s a snowstorm coming. We can’t stop now and you know it.”

“We can shelter through it, continue in the morning,” Sam said. “You pushing yourself now—“

“I’m fine,” Steve repeated. He started walking, purposely taking big strides so Sam would be forced to catch up. 

“Damn it!” Sam swore, but dutifully he caught up to Steve and fell into step beside him. “Since we don’t have antibiotics for this, the best cure for you will be rest so your immune system will have a chance to fight it. Steve,” he called. “Steve! You need to slow down!”

Steve slowed his pace. He hadn’t realized how quickly he’d been pushing it until he stopped. He could feel sweat cooling on his skin. 

“Shit,” Sam muttered. Before Steve could protest he put his hand against Steve’s forehead. “And now you have a fever.”

“I feel fine,” Steve grit out.

“Bullshit,” Sam said. 

The glare Steve shot him was epic.

“Fine, fine.” Sam raised his hands. “It’s just a little infection and a teeny-tiny fever. I get it. You’re all good.”

“Glad that’s cleared up.” Steve turned back towards their path and started walking again. 

The wind picked up, freezing cold against his overheated skin. He wanted to get his hat out of his pack but Sam’s sling meant he couldn’t easily get it off his back and he didn’t want to let Sam know that the cold was bothering him. He had to get Sam back to the town before the bad weather struck. 

And besides, he was fine.

It was amazing how much his balance was thrown off with one of his arms incapacitated and attached to his chest. He stumbled before he could catch himself. Sam shot him a look which Steve ignored. They kept walking.

A few flakes of snow started drifting down through the trees and then another and another until Steve found himself blinking snowflakes out of his eyes. They were falling thick and fast enough that he could feel them coating his hair and sliding inside his collar. The sling was getting covered, the flakes swirling inside it until they were landing on the hot and swollen skin of his hand. The extra awareness the flashes of cold brought to his skin was distinctly uncomfortable and Steve found himself clenching his teeth against the pain. 

He stumbled again. 

“Steve,” Sam said quietly as he grabbed his good elbow. “Clearly the Tylenol ain’t doing shit. I really think you need to rest.” 

“No.” Steve shook his head, causing some flakes to get dislodged and drift down in front of his eyes. The wind was stronger now, swirling the flakes around their heads and blowing through his hair. He turned to look at Bucky, waiting patiently for Dernier to give them the signal for them to grab the zip-line. “We’ll miss our window.”

Bucky frowned at him. “Steve, you really need to sit down.” 

“No,” Steve repeated. “You know we gotta do this. Colonel’s orders. It’s our only chance to get Zola.” He gave Bucky his most commanding glare. “And you should call me Captain. Now get ready.”

Bucky blinked. “Steve?” he said, and the uncertainty in his voice was something Steve hadn’t heard before. “Where are you?”

“What the fuck?” Steve whirled on him. “Sergeant, this is _not_ the time for one of your stupid pranks! Now get your ass up there and get ready for Dernier’s signal!” 

He turned back to grab the zip-line, but the ground tilted sharply beneath him and suddenly he crashed to his knees. The world turned around his head in sickening circles. 

“Steve!” Colonel Phillips shouted at him, which Steve didn’t understand because the Colonel never called him anything but ‘Rogers.’ “Jesus Christ,” Philips said, gently helping him to get his back propped against a tree. He slapped his hand to Steve’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Steve murmured. He knew he should get up and keep running with the others. Peggy was counting on him and he’d rather die than let her down. “Just let me rest for a minute and I’ll catch up to the squad.”

“Steve,” Philips said. He was holding onto Steve’s face with both his hands and his palms were blissfully cool against Steve’s skin. “Steve, its Sam. You have a high fever and it’s making you hallucinate. Nothing that you’re seeing is real.”

“Sam?” Steve said. He focussed on his friend gripping his face. Sam’s black hat was almost entirely white from snowflakes and they’d drifted down to catch in his eyelashes and on the stubble of Sam’s well-crafted goatee. “What’re you doing here?”

“Sometimes I ask myself the same thing,” Sam muttered. “We were Bucky-hunting in the forest of Symkaria,” he said. “You hit some Hydra technology with your fist, and somehow it’s got you infected.”

Steve looked around. The forest was full of dark shadows and swirling flakes of snow. In the distance he could make out Dum Dum and Morita scoping out the perimeter while Dernier and Monty dealt with the fire, getting ready to warm up their rations for supper. Steve could feel his shield pressing into his back from where he was leaning against the tree. He could feel the cold air against his face; the weight of Gabe’s palms against his jaw. His hand was one dull ache from his fingertips to his elbow, throbbing in time with his heart. His head was spinning.

“Gabe,” he said. “Did we get Zola?” He moved his head and Gabe dropped his hands. He looked around their campground for the one Commando that was missing. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Jesus,” Gabe muttered. “It’s Sam,” Gabe said. “And it’s 2015, not World War Two. Gabe isn’t here, but I am. Me. Sam.”

What Gabe said made no sense. Steve tried to understand what Gabe was telling him, but ended up squeezing his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness. His skin was burning and his hand—everything spun crazily and he lurched to the side to vomit. 

“Easy, big guy,” Sam murmured, supporting him gently as he threw up everything in his stomach twice over. Even though Sam’s touch was light, that pressure alone made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

“Please,” he whimpered. 

“It’s okay,” Sam said, manoeuvering him back to lean against the tree. He scooped up a handful of snow and pressed it against Steve’s forehead and Steve sighed in relief. It felt amazing.

“This is really bad,” Sam said. “I’m going to see if I can call Tony for a pick-up.”

“Tony?” Steve said slowly. There was some reason why Sam shouldn’t do that, but his brain was too fuzzy and hot for him to figure it out. 

“I know you don’t want him to know we’re tracking Bucky,” Sam said as he pulled out their Sat-Phone. “But you’re in a bad way, so I’m calling it.”

That was right. Steve knew they were tracking Bucky. Who killed Tony’s parents. But Tony couldn’t know. He thought they were just taking out Hydra bases. He didn’t know about Bucky. “No,” Steve tried to stand up. “Bucky—“ 

“Whoa!” Sam was back at his side in an instant. “Take it easy, big guy. No moving.”

Steve grabbed Sam’s jacket. “Bucky killed Tony’s parents.”

“I know,” Sam said, covering Steve’s good hand with his own. “And I promise, I’ll only tell him what I have to. But I need to call him.” His grip tightened. “Will you let me?”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve nodded and sagged back against the tree as Sam stood. Steve was hot and cold and dizzy and nauseous and his arm _ached._

“Shit!” Sam shook the phone. “The snow’s so thick I can’t get a signal through.” He did a slow circle, eyes narrowed against the falling snow and the near darkness. “I think there’s a clearing up ahead. I’m gonna go there to try to get a signal.” He knelt by Steve again. “I really don’t want to leave you here alone. Can you stand?”

“Yes,” Steve said. Sam helped Steve sit forward and removed his shield from his holster so he could wrap his arm around Steve’s back, under his backpack. He hooked his hand underneath Steve’s armpit. He put Steve’s good arm over his shoulders. 

“You ready?” Sam asked. “On the count of three,” he said when Steve had nodded ‘yes.’ “One, two, three,” Sam counted. Steve tried to stand. He couldn't get his legs to hold his weight.

“Fuck!” Sam rubbed his face with his hands, dislodging some of the snow that was there. 

“Where’re your gloves?” Steve said. It was always so cold in Italy in the winter, but Bucky was constantly giving his gloves to any women or children they found who needed them. Bucky said it wasn’t a problem because he was always warm. But Steve knew a sniper needed to be able to feel his fingers. 

“In my pocket,” Bucky replied. 

“Put’em on,” Steve ordered. “Your fingers’ll get cold.” 

“I can’t use the phone with them on,” Bucky said. He knelt by Steve, concern etched in his features. “I need to leave you here,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Steve grinned. His eyes were slipping shut. He was so tired. “I know you’re shipping out in the morning. It’s okay.”

“Shipping out…?” Bucky said, confused. 

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. “Don’t win the war ‘til I get there. Okay?” His eyes closed.

“Steve!” Sam yelled.

Steve’s eyes snapped open. “Sam?”

Sam’s smile was brittle. “I thought I lost you there,” he said. “Don’t do that again, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” Steve had no idea what he was agreeing to. 

Sam let out a breath. “Okay. I’m going to the clearing. I’ll be back in half-an-hour. Tops. Think you can stay alive until then?” His expression was anything but joking.

Steve swallowed. His throat was really dry. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

“Great,” Sam said. He gave Steve one more worried look and then headed off.

Steve let his eyes drift shut.

* * *

“Hey.” Steve was being shook awake. “Hey Stevie, wake up.”

“Quit it.” Steve frowned. “I ain’t feeling well Bucky. Leave me sleep.”

“No way, champ,” Bucky said. “You need to have some water. You’re burning up.” He held a canteen to Steve’s lips and Steve drank greedily. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded his head. He cracked his eyes open.

Bucky was crouching in front of him, his face barely visible in the near darkness. His eyes were hidden by deep shadows. 

“You need a haircut,” Steve said. “The army won’t let you in like that.”

Bucky smirked. “Don’t worry about my hair,” he said. “I’ll deal with it later.” He held something to Steve’s lips. “Here, you need to take this.”

“What is it?” Steve asked, but obediently he opened his mouth. Bucky always brought him medicine when he was sick. 

“Something to kill the bacteria that’s trying to eat your hand,” Bucky said as he popped the pill in and gave Steve more water to drink it down. “As you probably figured, Hydra was working on stuff to take out us super soldiers. Trust you to find the only viable specimen and smash it with your bare hands.”

“It’s so great to see you.” Steve smiled at Bucky. It’d been so long, _so long_ since he’d seen his best friend, and trust Bucky to show up when Steve was sick. He felt tears pricking against his eyelids. “I missed you.”

“Hey none of that!” Bucky smiled at him. “You want the girls to think you’re a sap?” He brushed snow off Steve’s hair with infinite gentleness.

Steve smiled back at Bucky, but then it slipped. There was something _off_ about Bucky being there. Something wrong that Steve’s fever-addled brain just couldn’t find. 

Bucky had started packing snow around Steve’s legs. “I ain’t got no blankets, so this’ll have to do before your buddy’s cavalry arrives.” Bucky looked towards the direction Sam had gone. “You might want to reconsider traveling with him, Stevie. He ain’t that well prepared.” 

“Bucky?” Steve said finally, his brain creaking into gear. “Why are you here?”

Bucky glanced up from where he was working by Steve’s feet. “I always take care of you when you’re sick.” Bucky frowned at him. “You know that.”

“But we were chasing you,” Steve said, memory finally clicking into place. “The fight in D.C., you fishing me out of the Potomac…We’ve been looking for you!” 

“I know.” Bucky grimaced. “I know and I’m sorry.” He sat back on his heels. “It’s just…” He dropped his gaze, rubbing his metal hand over his head, scattering snowflakes. Finally he looked up at Steve again, expression contrite. “It’s been tough,” he said softly. “Seeing you on the bridge like that…It’s been real hard.”

“Come home.” Steve leaned over and managed to clasp Bucky’s wrist with his good hand. “Please Bucky. Come home now. Please?”

“I will.” Bucky nodded. “I will. I promise. Just not now. Okay? I need more time to get my shit sorted out. But I’ll come back. I mean it.”

Steve sagged against the tree, feeling exhausted and in pain. Bucky was right there, but he wasn’t staying. He was going to leave again and Steve didn’t know if he could bear it.

“Hey,” Bucky soothed as he put his arms around Steve. Steve hadn’t even seen him move but suddenly he was beside him and pulling him into his arms. “Don’t cry, Stevie. You know I always hate it when you cry.”

“I don’t cry,” Steve sniffed. 

“Sure you don’t.” Bucky smirked. “But I mean it, Stevie. Give me a couple more months and I’ll be back. I swear to you.” 

“Promise?” Steve asked, even though Bucky’d already promised him twice.

“I promise.” Bucky smiled. Gently he eased Steve back against the tree. “Here,” he said, tucking a small bottle into Steve’s coat pocket. “More of Hydra’s medicine. I’m sure the docs will wanna know all about it when they get you back to New York.” He must’ve heard something because he looked up sharply. “Your buddy’s coming back so I gotta run.” He carded his fingers through Steve’s hair, brushing it back from his face with a touch that made Steve’s eyes water all over again. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“How can I?” Steve said through the lump in his throat. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “C’mere,” he said, pulling Steve into another hug. He placed a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Steve said. 

“I’ll be there soon. Promise,” Bucky said yet again, and then between one blink and the next he was gone. 

“Bucky?” Steve said into the darkness. “Bucky!”

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Sam dropped to his knees beside him and tugged Steve into his embrace. “You’re still hallucinating. We’re searching for him, but we haven’t found him yet. But I got a hold of Tony and the Quinjet’s on its way. Pickup is in just over seven hours. Think you can hold on until then?”

“Bucky was here,” Steve said. He struggled against Sam’s embrace until Sam let him go and Steve could look at his face. “He was here, Sam! He gave me medicine and pilled snow around my legs—“

“I know Bucky always took care of you when you were sick,” Sam agreed. “It’s natural you’d imagine him here when you’re not feeling well. But Steve, you’ve got an infection and a fever and it’s really bad. You’ve been imagining things all evening. This is just more of the same.”

“No, but…” Steve tried to feel for the medicine bottle, but Bucky’d slipped it into the pocket on his right side. He couldn’t reach it with his left arm and it would be beyond stupid to try to get it with his right hand. Steve blinked with a sudden realization. “My hand doesn't hurt as much,” he said. 

“Well damn.” Sam’s smile was brilliant in the darkness. “Look at you and your super soldier immune system! Told you, you just needed to sit it out for a while.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He’d been so _sure_ that Bucky’d been there, but maybe Sam was right. Maybe it was just another hallucination caused by his illness. “There’s medicine, in my pocket,” he tried.

“I think we’ll wait for pick-up before we try any more medicine,” Sam said. “The Tylenol was totally useless. Remember?”

“Uh huh.” Steve did remember. His head felt a bit clearer now, and he could feel his temperature lowering. But his hand still ached with infection and he felt wrung out. Physically and emotionally empty. He closed his eyes.

“Good idea, buddy,” Sam said beside him. “You sleep until the others get here. I’ll keep watch.”

“Thanks,” Steve whispered. He slept.

* * *

“But it was so _real,_ ” Steve sighed as he took another sip of his beer.

“Hallucinations are like that, man,” Sam said, leaning back on the couch in the living room of Steve’s Brooklyn apartment. When Steve had turned down living quarters in Stark Tower, Tony had retaliated by buying him a sweet apartment in Brooklyn that Steve would otherwise never be able to afford, even with his seven decades of military backpay. Steve had finally taken it, not so much because of wanting to accept Tony’s generosity, but because he and Bucky used to live in Brooklyn. A part of him hoped that eventually Bucky might make his way back there.

“I guess.” Steve grimaced around the mouth of his bottle. The beer wasn’t even close to getting him buzzed, but the taste was pleasant, and the ritual of drinking with friends never got old. “But I keep playing it over and over in my mind like it really happened.” It had been over a month since Symkaria and the memories of being with Bucky hadn’t dimmed at all. And he still had the bottle, so that had to count for something, right? 

Sam moved to lean forward, his expression one of total sincerity. “You were really sick,” he said softly. “And it was really bad. Worse even than when Clint got shot in Sokovia.”

“You weren’t there for that,” Steve cut in.

“Tasha told me,” Sam said. “And her expression said everything I needed to know. But you…” he shook his head. “I ain’t gonna lie to you. I thought you were going to die. Right there in the fucking Symkarian forest.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Steve smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He didn’t mean to have scared Sam that badly. He held up his right hand, opening and closing his fingers. “See? Not even a scar.”

Sam grinned at him. “And you are one lucky bastard. Us mere mortals? We would’ve had our hand cut off, infection that bad.”

Steve’d ended up in the hospital for several days, being pumped full of IV antibiotics, fluids and anything else they could think of to try to save his hand. No one had thought to check his jacket pockets and by the time they’d arrived at the hospital Steve was too out of it to tell them to check. He’d finally found it in his pocket after he’d gotten home.

“I had medicine,” Steve said. 

“Not until New York,” Sam corrected. “It’s your amazing immune system that saved your hand ‘til then.”

 _It was Bucky._ Steve left the thought unsaid. He considered pulling the medicine bottle out of his bathroom to show to Sam. But it was non-descript and unlabeled with nothing to link it to either Hydra or Bucky. He wasn’t sure what Sam would make of it. He didn’t really know what to make of it himself. He sighed. 

“Look,” Sam said on a breath. “I know, as your friend, I should probably be dissuading you from this, but now that you’re better, maybe we should start the search again? There must be at least one eastern European country we haven’t been to in the winter yet.” He grinned.

Steve smiled and opened his mouth to respond when there was a knock on the door.

Both Steve and Sam sat upright. Sam looked at him.

“You expecting anyone?”

“Not at eleven o’clock at night,” Steve answered. Quietly he scooped his shield from where he’d left it beside the couch and made his way towards the door.

He checked the peephole, straightened, and then checked it again. 

“Who is it?” Sam said, coming up behind him. “Should I get my gun?”

Steve shook his head, unable to form words. He opened to door.

A man was standing there, wearing a black jean jacket over a white t-shirt, blue jeans and beat-up work boots. His hair had been cut and styled with a forties vibe and he was smoking right underneath the ‘no smoking’ sign in the building’s hallway. 

He turned blue eyes to Steve’s, looking entirely uncertain. He stubbed the cigarette out against the sign and then dropped the butt onto the carpet. 

“Steve,” he said.

Steve swallowed. “I kind of thought you were dead.”

The man’s smirk grew into a full-blown smile. “I kind of thought you were smaller.”

“Bucky,” Steve breathed. “Oh my God. Bucky!” And then they were holding each other in a way that they hadn’t been able to do for over seventy years. 

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Bucky said against his neck.

“Yeah, Buck, you did,” Steve said. “You sure did.”

“Holy shit,” Sam said from somewhere behind him. “ _Holy shit!_ ”

“I missed you,” Steve murmured. “So much.”

“And that’s my cue to disappear,” Sam said. He patted Steve on the shoulder. “Call me,” he ordered. He stepped neatly around the two men, and then he was gone. 

Steve kept hugging Bucky, tears seeping from underneath his eyelids. “You weren’t a hallucination,” he said. “You were there. You were really there!”

“And I’m here now,” Bucky agreed. He smirked, a puff of breath Steve could feel against his cheek. “So, you think I can come in?”

“Oh. Oh yeah,” Steve said. He’d forgotten they’d been standing in the hallway the whole time. He let go of Bucky with reluctance and moved so Bucky could come inside. “Please,” he said.

“Thanks.” Bucky grinned shyly and moved past Steve into the apartment. He licked his lips. “And uh, thanks for looking for me. I don’t think I said that before.”

“Thanks for coming back,” Steve said softly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “In the woods there… I wasn’t actually sure you were real.”

“Oh I’m real, punk.” Bucky’s smile was crooked, but his lips on Steve’s were soft and demanding and his mouth tasted faintly of cigarettes but it was the best kiss Steve’d had in his whole life.

“I love you,” Steve whispered against his mouth. 

“Right back atcha,” Bucky said, capturing his mouth in another kiss.

Steve let the door slam shut behind them.

**END**


End file.
